Margaret Atwood

You begin this way:this is your hand,this is your eye,that is a fish, blue and flaton the paper, almostthe shape of an eye.This is your mouth, this is an Oor a moon, wicheveryou like. This is yellow.

Outside the windowis the rain, greenbecause it is summer, and beyond thatthe trees and then the world,wich is round and has onlythe colors of these nine crayons.

This is the world, wich is fullerand more difficult to learn than I have said.You are right to smudge it that waywith the red and thenthe orange: the world burns.

Once you have learned these wordsyou will learn that there are morewords than you can ever learn.The word hand floats above your handlike a small cloud over a lake.The word hand anchorsyour hand to this table,your hand is a warm stoneI hold between two words.

This is your hand, these are my hands, this is the world,wich is round bur not flat and has more colorsthan we can see.It begins, it has an end,this is what you willcome back to, this is your hand.